


Expressly Forbidden

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps the Qun doesn't hold the purpose that Saemus Dumar is looking for, but Ashaad just might.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expressly Forbidden

“Tell me again, what does Ashaad mean, exactly?”   
  
The wounded coast was more beautiful than the name would let on. There was something about how the combination of water and endless horizon bled together into a blue haze that offered a sublime serenity. It was warm enough to swim, warm enough to run around like a child in smallclothes and just feel the air on your skin, warm enough to lie in the sand and watch the clouds float by forever.   
  
On a cliff, a kossith and a man sat near one another, watching the horizon.   
  
“It is what I am,” said the kossith, not turning his gaze though the young man looked up at him.   
  
“Yes, but…what  are  you?”   
  
“I am what the Qun demands me to be.”   
  
The young man sighed, looking again at the water. There was so much he didn’t understand. Nobody ever gave him the chance to try.   
  
“Are you happy?”   
  
“I am happy to fulfill my role under the Qun,” the kossith turned to Saemus this time, his grey eyes unreadable. “The Qun gives purpose, reasoning. If I am Ashaad because the Qun demands that of me, then I am happy to be Ashaad.”   
  
“I wish it were all that simple,” Saemus said, dropping his gaze into his lap, gazing absently at the embroidery on his cuffs, staring at delicate gold thread that was woven into one of the lazy curling patterns that was currently popular. That felt so much like him; useless and decorative. “Doesn’t it bother you to never be given the chance to  choose? ”   
  
The kossith was silent. The wind changed, bringing with it the scent of smoke and brackish water. Somewhere, beyond the horizon, something was burning. Saemus shifted, pulled one leg underneath and began to stand. A large, heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked at Ashaad, searching those grey eyes for some kind of answer. That big silver hand moved from his shoulder to his chin, cupping it, nails digging lightly into Saemus’ pale cheeks. Saemus worked his jaw; there was so much to ask. There was so much to want.   
  
“Doesn’t it bother you to be forced to live without purpose?” Ashaad asked, holding Saemus’s gaze even as he released his chin. Saemus’ head fell forward.   
  
“I have purpose…I just haven’t found it yet.” Saemus reached for Ashaad’s hand, looking almost sadly at the difference in size. It hardly seemed fair. “Can you—can…the Qun give me purpose?”   
  
“That is not what you want,” said Ashaad, a small smile crossing the kossith’s stern face.   
  
“I need  _something_ !” Saemus put the heels of his hands to his eyes. Maker, yes, he needed something. Needed it like he needed to breathe. He felt Ashaad’s hand on his shoulder again. This time it snaked behind his back and he was pulled to the kossith’s massive chest.   
  
“There are things that I can give you,” Ashaad said softly, his lips near Saemus’ ear.   
  
Frustration was forgotten, and the need to breathe intensified. Saemus tentatively touched him, placing one hand over the sharp plane of Ashaad’s cheekbone. His skin was slightly rough, like fine sand, and the red body paint rubbed off on Saemus’ fingers, tinting them pink.   
  
“Is…is it permitted by the Qun?” Saemus asked shakily, moving his fingers from cheekbone to lips, his own parting out of reflex alone.   
  
“It is not expressly forbidden.” Ashaad made a small noise that Saemus would later swear was a laugh. He held the small of his back as he eased him forward, wrapping his other hand around his thigh to move Saemus into his lap. “This is what you want, is it not?” Saemus nodded rapidly, wrapping both arms around Ashaad’s shoulders. He could barely touch his fingers behind his back. _Yes_ . That’s exactly what he wanted. To give himself over to something that enormous, that significant.   
  
They kissed, and they didn’t fit, and it was perfect.    
  
Saemus was in Ashaad’s lap, his back pressed against the kossith’s massive bulk, the sun beating down on his bare chest, one silver-grey hand dragging long nails across his smooth skin, the other firmly planted between his legs, massaging and stroking, just  touching , though thin trousers. He fumbled with the laces, suddenly ignorant of the logistics of knots. Ashaad stopped to delicately pull at the string. Saemus felt flushed to the ears, wanting and needing and wondering how he had never realized how badly he was dying for this. A shudder slid down his spine when he felt rough leather against his ass, Ashaad maneuvering one leg, then the other, to remove his trousers and small clothes.   
  
“We’re so different…” Saemus said, out of breath. “Do you…like the way I look?”  
  
“I like that you are different.” Ashaad took Saemus’ cock into his hand, carefully but not gently, dragging his thumb over the oozing tip. Saemus lifted his hips to thrust into his hand, reaching his arms over his head to hold Ashaad by the neck, the muscles his thighs burning as he bucked.   
  
“More,” he gasped. Ashaad chuckled. He actually chuckled this time.   
  
The kossith shifted Saemus onto one thigh, loosening his grip as he removed his loincloth and unlaced the trousers underneath. He then slid Saemus back, insinuating his thick cock between slim, pale legs. “Close your knees,” Ahsaad said, murmuring into Saemus’ ear while he wrapped a hand around their cocks, slowly stroking, finding slick friction and rhythm immediately.   
  
“Oh, oh  _Maker_. ” Saemus dropped a hand between them to touch them, cock against cock, hand against hand. He clung desperately to the sensation of hot and slick sweat between them, rocking his hips forward while holding his thighs together as tightly as he could manage. Ashaad’s free arm was wrapped around him, crushing him against that huge chest, rubbing meticulously applied body paint to his back while he thrust between his legs, into his hand. Saemus grabbed that arm, holding tight to it as he came, hips snapping forward rapidly, slick semen coating their hands. He huffed, ragged and erratic, still squeezing Ashaad’s cock with his thighs, bouncing arrhythmically until the kossith jammed his hips down with a hand, holding him still as he too reached his apex.   
  
Saemus didn’t see stars. All the sex scenes in books ended with stars, but he saw horns instead. Ashaad leaned his head down to kiss his shoulder, a horn brushing Saemus’ cheek.   
  
Again they kissed, and they didn’t fit, and it was perfect.


End file.
